But, I don't know if it's the cold, grayness of March
or my disgust at ingesting any more medicine and sick of being sick
or my nutritionally unbalanced diet of the last 2 days of popcorn, Green & Black's organic almond milk chocolate bars, and lemonade
or the fact that I used up my vacation days being sick
and that my birthday is in a few days
and I just want to have easy fun.
But whatever, I feel like I can't draw another picture.
And I don't feel like it matters if I draw another picture.
I went and checked on Kenny--to see if he's still alive.
I laid down next to him, and I said, "I don't think I'm going to draw anymore."
He said, "Why not?"
I said, "Because it doesn't matter."
He said, "It matters to you."
I said, "I don't know if it does anymore."
He said, "Nothing is ever easy."
I thought, I wish it were.
I just want to laugh easily. I want to have a friend next door where we just start laughing over nothing and you roll over on your side and you feel like you've down a million sit-ups, and then you go and get a burrito with extra-hot sauce, and then you laugh some more, like you're drunk, but you're not. And I want to listen to good, live music. I'm not sure at what point fun became so fleeting or so hard to find, and everyone went off into their own directions.
I want people who are in their 20's to know that when you're in your 40's, you're really still in your 20's inside. I wonder if when I'm 80, I'll still feel like I'm 20 inside. Probably. And it will be even MORE aggravating. And as I'm waiting in the grocery line to buy my 6 oranges, veiny hands counting out my money, I'll have a soundtrack whirling through my head of the Allman Brother's "Whipping Post" or "Midnight Rider" or Guns 'n' Roses, "Paradise City." The same songs an old roommate and I would listen to as we took off at midnight after I got off my job from Kinko's and drive 150 miles to go to a faraway Perkins or IHOP (even though there were some only 10 minutes away) and we'd order chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream or chocolate silk pie and then we'd get home by 6 a.m. and go to bed.
Maybe if I could have had kids, I would be more comfortable in my "life stage." Probably not, though. There is sometimes a curse at being "young at heart." It's that you're young at heart, but everyone else is living their life practically--and they're acting their chronological age. And you're left thinking, "am I the only one who feels this way?"
Here's what I drew today as I laid on the couch with my sweet dog and watched "Beyonce's: Life Is But a Dream" which is great, by the way.
I can't stand pretending to feel one way when I don't. Sorry for the depresso post, but not sorry for being honest about it.
